Black Book of Carmarthen XVIII
Listen, O little pig! happy little pig,
Do not go rooting on top of the mountain.
But stay here, secluded in the wood.
Hidden from the dogs of Rhydderch the Faithful.
I will prophecy--it will be truth!
From Aber Taradyr the Cymry will be, bound
Under one warlike leader
His name is Llywelyn, of the line of Gwynedd.
Usurpers of the Prydein he will overcome.
Listen, O little pig! we should hide
From the huntsmen of Mordei, if one dared,
Lest we be pursued and discovered.
If we escape--I'll not complain of fatigue!
I shall predict, from the back of the ninth wave,
The truth about the White One who rode Dyfed to exhaustion
Who built a church for those who only half believed,
In the upland region, and among wild beasts.
Until Cynan comes, nothing will be restored.
Listen, O little pig! I lack sleep,
Such a tumult of grief is within me.
Fifty years of pain I have endured.
Evil is the joy which I have now.
May life be given me by Jesus, the most trustworthy
Of the kings of heaven, of highest lineage!
It will not be well with the female decendants of Adam,
If they believe not in God, in hte latter day.
Once I saw Gwenddoleu, with the gift of Princes,
Garnering prey on every side;
Beneath my green sod is he not still!
He was the chief of the North, and the gentlest.
Listen, O little pig! it was ncessary to pray,
For fear of the five sovereigns from Normandy;
And the fifth going over the salt sea,
To conquer Iwerdon [Ireland] with its pleasant towns;
He will cause war and confusion,
And ruddy arms and groanings in it.
And they, certainly, will come from it,
And do honor on the grave of Dewi [St. David].
And I will predict that there will be confusion
From the fighting of son and father, the country shall know it;
And that there iwll be to the Lloegrians the falling of cities,
And that deliverance will never be to Normandy.
Listen, O little pig! don't sleep yet!
Rumors reach me of perjured chieftains.
And tightfisted farmers.
Soon, over the sea, shall come men in armour
On armoured horses, with destroying spears
When that happens, war will come,
Fields will be ploughed but never reaped.
Women will be cuckolds to the corpses of their men.
Mourning will come to Caer Sallawg.
Listen, O little pig! O pig of truth!
The Sybil has told me a wondrous tale.
I predict a Summer full of fury,
Between brothers, treachery from Gwynedd.
A pledge of peace will be required from Gwynedd,
Seven hundred ships from Gynt blown in by the North wind.
In Aber Dyn they will confer.
Listen, O little pig! O blessed pig!
The Sybil has told me a frightful thing
When Lloegyr encamps in the lands of Eiddyn [some texts "Ethlin"]
Making Deganwy a strong fort
By the... of Lloegyr and Llywelyn,
There will be a child on the shoulders... baggage.
When Deinoel, son of Dunawd Deinwyn, becomes enraged,
And the Franks will flee
At Aber Dulas they will fall,
Sweating in bloody garments.
Listen, O little pig! listen to the calls for attention!
For the crime of the necessitous God will make remissions.
... what is becoming, be it mine,
And what is... let him seek.
Listen, O little pig! it is broad daylight,
Hark thou to the song of water-birds whose notes are loud!
To us there will be years and long days
And iniquitous rulers, and the blasting of fruit,
And bishops sheltering theives, churches desecrated,
And monks who will compensate for loads of sins.
Listen, O little pig! go to Gwynedd.
Seek a mate when you rest.
While Rhydderch Hael feasts in his hall
He does not know what sleepless I bore
Snow to my knees, owing to the warriness of the chief
Ice in my hair, sad my fate!
Tuesday will come, the day of fierce anger
Between the rulers of Powys and Gwynedd
When the beem of light will rise from its long repose
And defend from its enemy the frontiers of Gwynedd.
Unless my Maker wilI grant me a share of his mercy,
Woe to inc that I have existed, miserable will be my end!
Listen, O little pig! utter not a whisper,
When the host of war marches front Carmarthen,
To support, in the common cause, two welps
Of the line of Rhys, the stay of battle, the warlike commander of armies
When the Saxon shall be slain in the conflict of Cymm erau,
Blessed will be the lot of Cyrnry, the people of Cymrwy.
Listen, O little pig! blessed little pig of the country!
Do not sleep in the morning, burrow not in the fertile region
Lest Rydderch had and his cunning dogs should come,
And before thou couldst reach the wood, thy perspiration trickled down.
Listen, O little pig! thou blessed pig!
Hadst thou seen as much severe oppression as I have,
Thou wouldst not slcep in the morning, nor burrow on the lull.
When the, Saxons repose from their serpent cunning,
And the castle of Collwyn is resorted to front afar,
Clothes wiI1 be smart, and the black pool clear.
Listen, O little pig! hear thou now
When the men of Gwvynedd lay down their great work,
Blades will be in hands, horns will be sounded,
Armour will be broken before sharp lances.
And I will predict that two rightful princes
Will produce peace from heaven to earth--
Cynan, Cadwaladyr, thorough Cymry.
May their councils be admired.
The laws of the country, and the exclusion of troubles,
And the abolition of armies and theft;
And to us then there shall be a relief after our ills,
And from generosity none will be excluded.
Listen, O little pig! is not the mountain green?
My cloak is thin; for me there is no repose;
Pale is my visage; Gwendydd does not come to me.
When the men of Bryneich will bring their army to time shore,
Cymry will conquer, glorious will be their day.
Listen, O little pig! thou brawny pig!
Bury not thy snout, consume not Mynwy;
Love no pledge, love no play.
And an advice I will give to Gwenabwy,
"Be not an amorous youth given to wanton play."
And I will predict the battle of Machawy,
When there will be ruddy spears in the Riw Dydmwy,
From the contention of chieftains; breast will heave on the saddles;
There will be a morning of woe, and a woeful visitation;
A bear from Deheubarth will arise,
his men will spread over the land of Mynwy.
Blessed is the lot that awaits Gwenddydd,
When the Prince of Dyved comes to rule.
Listen, O little pig! are not the buds of thorns
Very green, time mountain beautiful, and beautiful the earth?
When two brothers will be two Idases for land,
From their claim will be cherished a lasting feud.
Listen, O little pig! to me it is of no purpose
To hear the voice of water-birds, whose scream is tumultuous,
Thin is the hair of my head, my covering is not warm;
The dales are my barn, my corn is not plenteous;
My summer collection affords me no relief,
Before parting from God, incessant was my passion.
And I will predict, before the end of the world,
Women without shame, and men without manliness.
Listen, O little pig! a trembling pig!
Thin is my covering, for me there is no repose,
Since the battle of Ardderyd it will not concern me,
Though the sky were to fall, and sea to overflow.
And I will predict that after Henri
Such and such a king in troublesome times.
When there shall be a bridge on the Taw, and another on the Tywi,
There will be an end of war in it.
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